The Way the World Goes Out
by Kilonji
Summary: Endings, some happy, some not. Some spoilers, random characters, random everything.
1. A Promise Kept

_Angst, anyone?_

_Why, don't mind if I do!_

* * *

She is heartily sick of doctors. They come and go like phantoms, regardless of whether the moon is out to entertain them or not. "Blood pressure-- good, temperature normal, pulse low. Please let us give you your medication now." 

She hates the medication. When it first started, it was days of sitting in a white room with a chemo drip. Uryuu held her hand. The first day, he detailed for her all the side effects, and the supposed benefits of the horrible thing. But she frowned at him, as she rarely did, and he stopped. "It's not forever, Orihime-san. Things will be better again when it is over." He would not smile until she did, and of course she did, because the anxiety was etched into his beautiful face. Anxious for her, as always.

But things were not okay after the treatment was over. Two hours of retching and a day and a half of exhaustion followed. She wanted to call him a liar. But she didn't. It wasn't like it would have made her feel better. Mostly she is angry now, angry at him for his anxiety, angry at herself for her uselessness.

And she has always been useless, she thinks. The one who needed rescuing. The one who could not fight beside her friends. The one who could not even heal herself. Uryuu never cared about that, does not care even now. But she is broken somewhere inside and they both know it. She is grateful the children are away from here and unable to see her helplessness. She hopes they never have to see her this way.

But still, she misses them. She appreciates being able to see them in their father's eyes. "Maybe we should call Tatsuki-chan to bring them," she says. "It's been three days."

"We talk to them on the phone everyday," Uryuu says. "We pretend everything is okay. It would be a shock to them to come in and see this. It was like that for me when my mother died."

She shakes her head. "But they already know. A year of being sick, do you think they wouldn't have noticed that?"

"But we've told them it will be okay. They still believe us. I believe us."

She closes her eyes. "I don't. I won't pretend anymore."

His fingers curl around her hand. "I'll do anything you want. I always have."

"You can't this time. You can't be with me." Her tone is accusing. "Stop lying to us."

He takes a deep breath. "I'm not lying."

They don't speak after that. Even after they start talking again a few hours later, it's a sick merry-go-round of denial, denial, denial. Everything but the issue at hand. They dance around it until neither of them have the energy to do anything but sleep. But his hand is still tight around hers. He wakes in the middle of the night and his hand is sweaty. "Orihime-san."

She opens her eyes slowly. Her body is like a lead weight. "Uryuu."

"Please don't cry. You were crying in your sleep."

She wipes her eyes with her sleeve. "I can't help it. I feel so alone, Uryuu. How can you possibly understand?"

"It's me. You're all I've thought of since high school. I have a pretty good idea by now of how your mind works. And no matter where you are, you'll never be alone. Ever. Please believe me."

She blinks. "I love you."

He smiles at her. "I know."

She'll carry that smile with her in two days when she goes to collect their children. She'll tell them their father loves them and will always be with them, no matter what. When she buries him, she smiles to herself when she feels his arm around her. She'll be glad then, insanely happy, that she never called him a liar. Her beautiful Uryuu, dead at thirty-seven. But by her side forever.

Just like he told her he would be.


	2. Looking For Clovers Without Me

Author: Beta read!

Redneck Gigolo: (reads) (funny look) . . . Eeeww. What's wrong with you?

Author: (sniff) Who the (insert explative here) asked you, anyway? Jerk.

* * *

She wanted Kurosaki-kun to be her Morita-san. There are fundamental differences between them, yes—Morita-san is a dark haired artist, whimsical and unstable, while Kurosaki-kun is. . . well . . . Kurosaki-kun—but sometimes she will close her eyes and focus on their similarities. They are both gifted. They are both energetic. They are both so very sure of themselves. 

The similarities, unfortunately, stop there. But it's okay, she can make it stretch here, with all this time on her hands, little else to do here but think and regret and mourn who she used to be. But Morita-Kurosaki-kun is with her, pretending not to notice the fact that she has become a little insane.

Ishida-kun is Takemoto-kun by default. But he doesn't have any burning adolescent love for her, not any that she's ever noticed. She chuckles to herself when reminded that when presented with the sight of her bra, he skittered back like a startled puppy, yelping. He's adorable when he's uncomfortable, she thinks.

Rukia cannot be Ayu-chan. Her hair is dark, her demeanor more refined, her desires nonexistent—even when it comes to Kurosaki-kun, whom she may or may not love. But she would not pine for him, even if she did. She would have him because he is so clearly already hers—no, that's not how it should go. That would make Rukia into Rika-san and Kurosaki-kun into Mayama-kun, and he's just not stalkerish enough for that, and Rukia has no deep emotional anguish. But then, who is she? Who can she be? Where does she fit in? _Best not to think about that now. It'll come to me later_, the prisoner thinks.

Sado-kun. . . defies any definition. The closest she comes is Lohmeyer-senpai, and he's not in the series enough for her taste. That's one thing about Sado that is non-negotiable. He is always there. Besides, her friends are too precious to her to be neglected in such a shameful way. She dislikes plot conveniences that separate loved ones in that way. Her being here is one such convenience, she thinks.

But no, this is real, and she is alone. But her friends are coming, she knows.

Coming to get her because they love her. In the way that Hagu-chan is loved—no. She cannot be loved in the way Hagu-chan is loved because she is not, will never be, Hagu-chan. Especially not now.

She is no longer pure. She was never brilliant in that way. She never will be golden like that.

The web she tried so hard to weave crumbles and melts away into the shadows as she sinks to the floor. She knows she must not—must not—but she cannot help it. The tears seep and soak the skirt of the dress. Her knees are to her chest and her arms are wrapped around them, and she is sobbing her heart out because this is reality—_reality_—and no amount of fantasizing will change it.

When Ulquiorra comes for her, she has sealed her tears away. She will face forward from here. She will not long for simpler days.

She will not wish to be in a clear green field with her friends searching for clover. That's not who they are. It isn't who she is, either. Never will be. Never, never, never.

Her friends are coming, and she is helpless, not unlike Hagu-chan, but in an insidious, horrible way. They'll end here too, if she does not act. But she _will_ act. She'll become something different altogether. _Please forgive me. _

_Someday, you'll look for clovers in a clear green field. Someday, you'll be warm and safe and all this will be behind you. Someday, you'll forgive me for not being with you anymore. This is the end, _she tells herself_. The end of me as I know it._

* * *

**A/N: **Special thanks to Notnow for turning me on to Honey and Clover. Thanks to you, my friend, this scattered brain can wander to places the Redneck Gigolo cannot tread. And she kinda likes it that way. 


	3. Trail of Tears

_You're going to die anyway. Conserve your energy and try to linger on for a moment longer. _ She had tears in her eyes.

Why was she crying?

It doesn't matter. He knows now that he really knows nothing, but he is sure that the tears she shed for him were wasted. Wasted on an unusually lucky rookie who got in over his head. Wasted in the face of whatever it was calling for her, pulling her back to that place she came from, the place that sent blood-related assassins to retrieve her. Her own brother. Bastard.

And then there was that unusually lucky rookie, on the ground with his life seeping away, powerless to do anything but watch her go and hate her most of all for giving up on him. He decides he will not waste any energy deciding which hurt more: His mortal wound or her response to it. He knows her reactions well, because this is how she seems to respond to everything. _Save the boy. Save the boy. Save the boy._

Or both boys. He cannot see Ishida, but that cocky bastard is lying someplace near, probably dying or dead already. Sticking out his neck for nothing. Dumbass. But right now Ichigo lacks the strength to call out to him, to discern his progress toward oblivion.

Now that's just messed up. Of all the people he could end up dying with. . . But then, maybe it's not so strange. Of all the people he could have ended up living with, it had to be a tiny shinigami with a bad attitude.

And tears in her eyes the last time he would ever see her. He knew she cared, of course. But stupid, oblivious him, he never imagined the extent of her care. He wishes he had not seen it. It would have been easier if she were merely indifferent. But no. She would not have gone so far, acted so carelessly—and it was careless, you could see it in the redhead's face—if she didn't give a damn how and when he died. But she did, and whatever crime she committed has become worse. She may very well be returning to Soul Society to be killed herself.

Yet another example of Kuchiki Rukia hurling herself into the path of a bus for the sake of Kurosaki Ichigo.

And he can't even repay her. He wonders why it is so important now, after all this time. heir short months together afforded plenty of time for him to show her he was at least grateful for the gift—and it _was_ a gift—she had given him. And yet he never did anything but bitch at her, really. Even more than she bitched at him. He gets the feeling that in some ways, they have both completely failed each other. At least one of them should survive this, but it doesn't look like that will happen now. He closes his eyes. He doesn't have the strength to weep for her. But in the dimming light, he is certain that if he could, he would.

_I'm so sorry, Rukia._

* * *

**A/N: ** Regarding the first line, taken directly from a scanalation of the manga instead of the anime, I debated for a while which translation to use. I decided on the item from the manga because the majority of my stories are cannon the the manga and not the anime. Also, I feel the anime softens the statement. In the anime she's begging. In the manga she's _ordering_. Which one is more like her? As always, the manga is. In my opinion, anyway.**  
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